


223b Baker Street

by RubyGem



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Post-Season/Series 02 AU, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-04-20 19:39:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4799807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubyGem/pseuds/RubyGem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose never expected her life to change so drastically when she moved into 223b Baker Street.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

I felt him slip into bed beside me and his cool body slid up against my back. I stretched out pushing my body back against his. His large hand rested against my hip and his thumb started to move in gentle circles against my sleep warmed skin.

“What’s the time?”                          

“3.30” he murmured against my neck, before he began gently kissing and nibbling at my neck sending shivers of pleasure through me.

I reached back to stroke his stubbled cheek, turning my head to kiss him. His kisses were gentle, barely grazing my lips with his. I opened my eyes to find his stunning blue, green and gold eyes staring into mine. For a few seconds we just stared at each other, his expression unfathomable. Then his eyes closed and his lips crashed against mine. This kiss was no longer gentle, he bit at my lower lip and as I opened my lips he plunged his tongue into my mouth. His reserve and control was gone, in this moment he was pure passion. I would never have imagined he could be this man when I had first met him 6 months ago.

 

***************************************************************************************

 

I had never heard of Sherlock Holmes when I moved to 223b Baker Street. I had been in my new job for a couple of months and was looking for a bigger flat in London. Even with my well paid job at a respected accountancy firm it did not give me enough funds for much in the middle of London. When Mrs Hudson the landlady showed me around I was impressed with how much more I would get for my money, all the others I had looked at in my price bracket had been much smaller.

“The kitchen is just off the living room”

“This is a great size” I said in a voice that I hoped didn’t betray just how much I loved it. The kitchen was at least three times bigger than my current one, which only one person could stand in at a time. I was thinking of the things I could buy that I had never had space for before.

“It needs a bit of a spruce up my dear. I’ve got someone coming in next week to rehang a few of the cupboard doors and to give it a new lick of paint in here, the living room and the master bedroom. Which I’ll show you now” she said leading me out of the kitchen to the back of the flat.

I rang her the next day. I loved the flat but had a few questions and requests

“What are the neighbours like?” I didn’t want to get stuck in a flat where the neighbours were constantly fighting. In my last flat I was subjected to the couple next door screaming at each other two or three times a week and then loudly making up. That also involved a lot of screaming and banging on the wall with their headboard.

“Oh well dear, I own the building and 221 next door. All my tenants are professionals and I’ve never had any problems with any of the current ones. There is a gentleman upstairs, very quiet we hardly see him. I think he works quite long hours. And a couple live downstairs and another couple in the top flat next door. 221b is empty so there will be no noise from there and I live on the ground floor next door”

“Oh I didn’t know you had another flat available”

“Oh no dear it’s not available, the man who lives there, I mean used to live there left it ….unexpectedly, and well he didn’t leave it habitable. It still needs a bit of work done on it before I would be able to rent it out again”

“Ok, well the neighbours sound lovely, and I would love to take it, but I have a couple of requests.”

“I’m listening “

“Well first I have a cat, and I need to check that it won’t be a problem.”

“No I don’t think so my dear” Then I swore she muttered ‘I’ve had worse than cats in my flats’ to herself.

“Also I would like to ask if I could decorate it a bit, I would be happy to paint it back before I move out”

“Of course you can, make it feel like your home dear”

“Thank you, in that case Mrs Hudson I would love to take it.”

 

**********************************************************************************

 

 

I had been living in my new flat for a couple of months before I had time to start decorating, what with a few business trips I had had to make. When my doorbell went for the delivery of paint, wallpaper and a few other bits and pieces I needed I rushed down the stairs, eager to get started. I obviously didn’t fly down the stairs as quickly as I had thought, because when I opened the door I found my order dumped unceremoniously on the doorstep. I was struggling to get it all into the hall as a taxi drew up a little further down the road. A tall man sprung out of the taxi on athletic legs and his long coat swung out behind him grazing the hip of the shorter man who got out after him.

” I’ll get this then shall I Sherlock” the last man to get out called out, shaking his head at the retreating back of the man striding up the street toward me. I carried on trying to fill my arms with as much as possible, so as to have to make as few trips as possible. In my haste a pack of paintbrushes sprung out of their bag and skittered along the pavement. The shorter man jogged over picking them up for me. Handing them back to me he smiled saying “There you go.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem, just moved in?”

“Been here a couple of months” I noticed his friend was unlocking the door to 221.

“You two must be neighbours of mine” I said nodding in the direction of the open door to 221 where his friend was standing obviously impatient.

“I used to live here; it’s just Sherlock that lives there now.”

I turned fully in Sherlock’s direction and smiled

“Rose” I introduced myself.

All I got in response was an obviously fake smile. The type used by disinterested uncles when being told by their niece about her horse riding lessons. The smile quickly fell back to the aloof, impatient face of earlier. I turned back to the shorter, obviously nicer man.

“John” he said. “We’ll give you a hand with this stuff if you’d like?”

This was clearly the last thing that Sherlock wanted to do. I could tell that just from what I could see of his face from the corner of my eye. His response was part of the reason I accepted the offer.

So a few seconds later the three of us were lugging all my delivery up the stairs. We dumped it inside the entrance of my flat.

“Thanks for the help.”

“No problem, anytime. Well we will let you get on.”

“Thanks again.”

And with not one word having been uttered by Sherlock Holmes they left. As I was closing the door I heard John saying from the stairs “Glad to see that you are still as rude as you were before you died.”


	2. Chapter 2

I had been decorating in earnest for the 3 days since I first met John and Sherlock. It was a beautiful spring day outside and the sun had been streaming through the windows in the living room. I’d opened all the windows to help cool the room and air the flat of the paint smell. I’d had a really productive few days. The bedroom and hall were completely done. That morning I had been applying the second coat of a light sage green paint to the living room walls while dancing around singing at the top of my voice to such classics as 'More Than A Feeling' by Boston, 'Black Betty' by Ram Jam and 'Smells Like Teen Spirit' by Nirvana.

I was on the last wall when 'I Was Made For Lovin’ You' by Kiss came on. I forgot about the painting and lost myself to the singing and dancing, like you only can when completely alone. Unfortunately I was not alone. I suddenly realised my neighbour was standing in the door way staring at me intently, and I stopped abruptly. I felt myself flushing almost immediately. He stood there in a tailored suit and a dark shirt, his dark curling hair and sharp cheekbones framing his intense observing eyes. He looked pristine. My flush moved up a notch when I realised that I looked like a wreck. My hair was piled messily up on top of my head; I was wearing a pair of leggings and a checked shirt that belonged to an old boyfriend of mine, which was taut across my DD chest. I was completely covered in splatters of paint and two of my toes on my right foot were sage green from where I had dropped a dollop of paint on my bare foot.

“Hi.” I said tentatively.

“Hello, I came over to ask you to turn the music down.” Sherlock had finally spoken and his rich baritone voice surprised me.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise there would be anyone in at this time of day, in the middle of the week.”

“You could say I work irregular hours.”

 

I scooted over to the radio which was down near his feet and turn the volume right down until it was only a whisper, as I straightened up I became conscious that he was staring intently down at me. I am tall at 5”8 but he must be 6”. It was only made to feel more intimate by how much closer I was to him than I had realised.

“Our flats are exactly the same size and shape” he said not looking at the flat but still staring at my face. The combination of our proximity, his staring at me and the timbre of his voice made me feel hot and I could feel myself flushing even more.

“Do you mind if I have a look around? “

I shook my head as he started to move through my flat, so he must live in 221b, which Mrs Hudson had said was inhabitable. Then I remembered what his friend John had said about how he used to live there but now it was just Sherlock. So he must be the old tenant then come back.

“You live at 221b?”

He nodded in response. When he got into the kitchen he crouched down on the floor and put his head to the floor. This strange behaviour snapped me out of the moment I had been having (although not quickly enough that I hadn’t appreciated the view I had of his arse as he’d lowered to the floor)

“What are you doing? And how did you get in her in the first place?” I suddenly remembered to ask.

“Come and look at this.”

I walked into the kitchen as he moved to the far wall where an alcove with built in shelving was. He started scrabbling around on the floor of the alcove which was a few inches lower than the kitchen floor. Suddenly the wooden skirting at the front of the alcove sprung out. Sherlock then put his hand behind were the skirting had been and pulled out an old tin box. Handing it to me, he got back up dusting his knees of.

“How did you know this was there?”

“I told you our flats are exactly the same.”

“You have a secret compartment in your flat as well?”

“Yes”

“How did you find it?”

“Slight difference in the floor level, all you have to do is look.” His tone had a hint of impatience, like a teacher sick of explaining the same thing to you over and over again that you still can’t grasp.

 

I placed the tin on the worktop and attempted to open it. It was stiff and rusted together. I was starting to think that it was not going to open when it gave a little. Slowly I managed to prise the tin open. Inside were old notes. It had clearly been somebody’s savings, forgotten about and now worth nothing. At the bottom of the tin were a few letters as well. I started to read one and Sherlock picked up another. They were love letters from a man to his sweetheart. I read mine but could see that Sherlock had quickly discarded his and was rooting around in the bottom of the tin. The letter was sweet, probably written by a teenager judging on the amount of clichés it contained. I was distracted from the letter, when Sherlock touched my hand.

“I found this at the bottom” he placed a ring in my hand, which was tingling from his earlier touch. The ring had with what looked like emeralds and opals set in it.

“That’s pretty.” I traced my fingers over the cluster.

“I doubt it’s worth much.”

“Oh do you know much about jewellery?”

“I know about lots of things.”

With that he moved off through the door to the hall. I followed him; he was at the front door by the time I got to the hall. He turned “John mentioned that I was rude to you when we met the other day. I’m sorry” with that pulled the door open. As it closed on him he said “It suits you”

Puzzled I looked down to see that at some point I had slipped the ring on my finger and was now wearing it. As I turned to go back to the painting I realised I still didn’t know how he had got in to my flat.


	3. Chapter 3

I was sitting in Mrs Hudson’s kitchen on a Saturday afternoon, drinking tea and having a catch up. My landlady was a brilliant, warm and entertaining woman and I enjoyed our little chats. I had lived in London, Philadelphia, Paris and Madrid and this had to be the first time I’d had such friendly neighbours, if you didn’t count Sherlock. I was just in the middle of telling her about a book festival that I was going to with some friends, when a booming voice echoed through the house.

“Mrs Hudson”

“Really, Sherlock” she muttered shaking her head as she got up out of her chair.

“You’re not really going to go running to him when summoned are you?” I asked her incredulously. I mean the man was strangely attractive in a brooding way, but he was also one of the rudest men I had met.

“If I don’t go up there he’ll just keep shouting. I don’t want him upsetting the neighbours any more than he already does”

“Sit back down, I’ll go and see what his lordship wants” I said springing up and out the door leaving her no choice in the matter.

As I left she shouted out “Remind him that I’m his landlady, not his housekeeper!”

 

I stormed up the stairs and went in through the open front door. As I entered the living room he was stretched out on the sofa, eyes closed and facing away from me.

“Not Mrs Hudson but you’ll do, I need milk.”

I was flabbergasted; it took me a few seconds to form my anger into sentences.

“Hang on; you called your landlady to get you some milk. You realise that is not normal right? I mean you are a fully grown man who has perfectly good, functioning legs, which can carry him to a shop to purchase milk. Mrs Hudson is old enough to be your mother Sherlock! She shouldn’t be buying you milk, you should be making her cups of tea.” With that I turned back to the hall, throwing over my shoulder as I left “She’s your landlady, not your housekeeper”

When I sat back down at Mrs Hudson’s kitchen table she looked at me questioningly.

“He wanted milk, but he’s going to go get it himself now” I said and left it at that.

 

A few days later I was standing on the doorstep fumbling in my handbag for my keys when Mrs Hudson poked her head out her front door “Hello dear, I was hoping to see you when you got back. I had some leftover chicken from last night and I was wondering if Theo would like some?”

Theodore or Theo was my grey tabby cat. Mrs Hudson was often giving me titbits for him and would look after him when business took me away. If I was away for more than a few days I would come back to a larger cat than I had left. “I’m sure he would love that.”

She beckoned me into the hall. When we got to her flat the main door opened behind us and Sherlock strode in holding a bottle of milk in his hand. “Ah Mrs Hudson, would you join me for a cup of tea?” I turned to look at Mrs Hudson, her mouth was hanging open and confusion played across her face. “And you Rose?”

I turned back and beaming at him responded with “I would be delighted Sherlock.” I got my first genuine amused smile from him then as I steered Mrs Hudson gently towards the stairs.

Sherlock actually made a good cuppa. The three of us sat together, Mrs Hudson and me on the sofa and Sherlock on the chair he pulled over. Once Mrs Hudson had got over her initial shock at the invite she was back to her normal chatty self. Sherlock tried his best to remain engaged and interested but after a while I could tell he was finding it hard. I threw him a lifeline.

“Sherlock I don’t really know what you do?”

“I’m a consulting detective, when the police can’t solve a case they pull me in to do it.”

“What to work alongside them?”

“They like to think so.”

“How does that work?”

He proceeded to tell me about his work. It was engrossing to listen to him talk about something he was clearly so passionate about. At some point Mrs Hudson left but I barely noticed. When I finally left I found a bag of chicken on the hall table with a book underneath it and a note from Mrs Hudson

_Here are the treats for Theo and something I think you might find interesting. Mrs H x_

When I got in the door of the flat Theo was there rubbing around my ankles. I put the chicken in his bowl, changed his water and put a pan of water on the stove before heading for my bedroom to change into pyjamas. As I sat down to a pasta dinner I opened up the book Mrs Hudson had left for me. Flipping through it I realised that every page contained a newspaper cutting about Sherlock. Fascinated I flipped back to the beginning and started to read. By the time I got to the end of it I had covered the whole of his career, complete with faked death and his resurrection. I had missed all of this from living in Europe at the time, but how had I missed the recent ‘Sherlock Lives’ headlines and not realised they were referring to my neighbour? Sherlock is hardly a common name.

When I woke the next day I knew I had been dreaming of Sherlock but, as with most dreams, I couldn’t remember any more than that. So when I came out of my bedroom to find him pacing in my kitchen I was not convinced that I wasn’t still dreaming.

“Sherlock? What are you doing here?”

He stopped opened his eyes and said “Need to think. She is cleaning.”

With that he closed his eyes again and continued his pacing. After fifteen minutes of watching him do this, while I drank a cup of tea, I decided I needed to do something. I had no idea what he was doing here, what he was muttering to himself about or if this was at all normal for him.

“Sherlock” his eyes snapped open “can I borrow your phone please?” He pulled his phone out of his pocket punched at the screen, put it on the end of the worktop and went back to pacing with his eyes shut. I reached for the phone and moved towards my bedroom, scrolling to his contacts as I went. Shutting the bedroom door I connected the call to John and sat on the edge of the bed as it started ringing.

“Sherlock, do you realise what time it is?” John’s bleary voice asked

“Sorry John I know it’s early. This is Rose, Sherlock’s neighbour.”

Sounding more awake John asked “Is everything alright?”

I crept back to my door and opened it a crack peeking out at Sherlock “I don’t know, I came out this morning to find Sherlock pacing up and down in my flat. He is currently standing there with his eyes screwed shut waving his arms around.”

“Mind palace.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry this is normal for him, he’s just thinking. He looks insane, but he’s just trying to shut out everything else to concentrate on a problem.”

“Ok” I said warily

“I can come over and try to move him if you want”

“No it’s fine. I just wanted to check he was ok. So I should just leave him be until he’s solved it?”

“Yeah pretty much, he might start explaining it to you, using you as a kind of sounding board.”

“Is it ok to leave him?”

“Yes, he probably won’t even notice that you’ve gone.”

“Ok, thanks John. I’m sorry for waking you.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

I came back to the kitchen watching him, he had started pacing again. Putting his phone back down where he had left it, I picked my own up. Moving to my office I phoned work and told them I was working from home today. John had said he was fine but I still wasn’t leaving a man I barely knew alone in my flat. When I came out of my office at lunchtime he was gone, he must have solved his problem I thought to myself.

Over the next few weeks I found Sherlock in my flat more frequently. He wasn’t always there to think. He’d come and tell me about the cases he solved and I loved listening to him. We normally ended up having dinner together when he solved a case. He didn’t eat much when working, as it apparently ‘interfered with his ability to think’. So when he was in-between cases he ate like a horse. It no longer surprised me when I came back to find him in my flat that had been locked when I left it. I had given up asking him how he got in. Theo kept a wary distance from him. Sherlock didn’t even seem to notice Theo, but he did seem to notice me. I caught him several times staring at me in a way that I just couldn’t read. I had become accustomed to his rudeness but I still found his touch caused me to tingle and finding him staring at me with his unique coloured eyes sent a bolt of desire for him shooting through me.


	4. Chapter 4

I was tired and all I wanted to do was kick off my shoes and crawl into my bed. I had been away on a trip to Madrid, where my company had offices, for two days. As I pulled my suitcase behind me out of the exit of Baker Street tube station and up the road toward 223 all I could think about was my own bed waiting for me. As I rounded the corner I saw emergency services littered outside my building, my heart skipped a beat. As I approached a man turned in my direction, it took my brain a second to recognise him as John. He stood halfway down the side of an ambulance and in his arms he was holding a soot streaked Theo.   
“What happened?” I asked dropping my suitcase and holding my arms out for Theo.   
“There was a fire in your flat.” He said gently placing Theo in my arms.  
I pulled Theo to my chest like a baby. This was not something he would normally let me do, but he was completely placid as I did it now.  
“How….” That was as far as I got before I felt strong arms envelop me and my head buried against the shoulder of a man in a thick woollen coat. It smelled strongly of smoke and the underlying scent of Sherlock. I pulled back slightly and looked up at his face to see his eyes staring down at me in that familiar unreadable way from his soot streaked face.   
“You saved Theo?”  
“I thought you were inside.”  
“I was away” I whispered, the shock making me say the most obvious thing. I glanced over his shoulder then to see John staring at the two of us like we were Martians. I then grasped just how strange a sight Sherlock rushing to hold me was to his best friend.  
“Sir we haven’t finished examining you yet.”  
Sherlock pulled back from me but rested his arm over my shoulders and pulled me against his side.  
“I’m fine”  
“Let them do their job Sherlock.” John said coming up beside us. I slid my arm around Sherlock’s waist and started leading him back towards the open ambulance.

Much later, after Sherlock and Theo had been given the all clear, we returned to Baker Street. I had left my suitcase with Mrs Hudson. I’d still not worked out were I would go and who would look after Theo. I couldn’t take him to a hotel with me. Sherlock opened the front door and strode in and up the stairs, John following him. I headed in the direction of Mrs Hudson’s hoping that she would agree to have Theo for the night until I could arrange something.   
“Rose, come on” a rich baritone voice said behind me.  
“I have to get my things”  
“I had Mrs Hudson leave them upstairs in my flat, now come on.” And he reached for my hand and walked me up the stairs.

I had laid here for hours and despite how tired I was earlier I could not sleep. Everything was rolling around in my head. The fire was no accident, they suspected it was arson and tomorrow the arson investigation unit were going to examine it. Sherlock thought they had got the wrong flat and they meant to set fire to his. Meaning that they had been trying to set fire to the flat I was now attempting to sleep in. Sherlock and John had sent me to bed when it was obvious I could hardly keep my eyes open, but now I didn’t feel as safe as I had earlier curled up on the sofa with them sitting across the room. Sherlock’s bed smelt of him, that helped, but I still couldn’t sleep. 

I crept out of the bedroom to get a drink. The flat was dark, but as it was the same layout as mine it didn’t pose too much of a challenge to me. What did was when I got to the kitchen and realised I had no idea where he kept anything. I started opening cupboards feeling around in the gloom, when Sherlock’s voice startled me.  
“Turn a light on. They’re in the last cupboard on the right.”  
I reached behind me flicking the kitchen light switch which was in exactly the same place as mine, moved to the cupboard getting a glass and finally made myself a glass of water. I sipped it as I moved toward the living room. Sherlock was sitting in a chair facing the kitchen. I was surprised to find Theo curled up on his lap and Sherlock slowly stroking his fur.   
“You two have bonded” I nodded towards his lap  
“It would appear so”  
I moved closer, his eyes were still bloodshot from the smoke and he looked tired. He was wearing pyjama bottoms and a silk dressing gown left untied letting me gaze at his lightly muscled bare chest. This reminded me of how little I was wearing, dressed in a vest top that ended at mid hip and a light pair of cotton shorts, which is all I had packed for the warm nights in Madrid. I watched as his eyes travelling up my long toned legs and carried on up. When his eyes met mine I saw hunger in them I had never seen there before.  
I went and perched on the arm of his chair and reached down to stroke Theo. Then I turned to him.  
“I can’t sleep.”  
“Why?”  
“I don’t feel safe” I paused unsure if I should say what I was about to before continuing “You make me feel safe, stay with me?”  
He visibly swallowed before wordlessly nodding his head. I reached down and lifted Theo from his lap, when he stood I put Theo back in the warm space he had left. Then I stood reached for his hand and together we walked to the bedroom.

I got into bed and watched him hang his dressing gown on the back of the bedroom door, letting me appreciate his broad shoulders before he got into the bed. We left a wide area between our bodies both of us scared of what this was. I did feel safer though and gradually I felt myself drifting toward sleep. I moved my hand out into the no man’s land between us, his hand joined it and we fell asleep with our fingers laced.

When I woke again in the night there was no gap between us. I stopped breathing when I realised my arm was draped over his waist and our lower legs were intertwined. I relaxed as I realised that he was asleep and I felt incredibly comfortable against him like this. Rather than moving away, which had been my first gut reaction, I moved closer. He had his arm over his head so I moved my cheek right up against his chest. I was startled when his arm fell from over his head to my back pulling me tighter against him.   
When I felt him kiss the top of my head I raised myself up on an elbow. My arm drew up from his waist to higher up his chest and our legs stayed entwined. He was surprised I was awake. I looked at him, a man who was always so sure of himself that he flirted on the edges of arrogance at times. He looked so unsure of himself right now.  
“I’m sorry.” He moved his face away as he said it.  
“What for?”  
“The fire is my fault, and ….” I reached for his cheek with my hand and turned his face towards mine stopping him mid-sentence.  
Without thinking I raised my lips to his gently kissing them before whispering against them “Not your fault.”  
Pulling my head back I opened my eyes and stared into his, and then he kissed me back. He was hesitant to begin with. I started to kiss him back with more vigour running my tongue over his lip and gently probing his mouth with my tongue as he opened his lips. He ran his tongue over my teeth and entered my mouth. When I gave a small moan he seemed to lose the inhabitations he had and his hand curled into my long hair, as he shifted onto his side.

I pushed the length of my body right up against his, feeling my nipples hardening as I pushed them against his chest. I began running my hand along his back. He bent his head to kiss at the base of my neck and I gripped at his shoulder as I felt a pulse running through me. Realising this was a sweet spot for me he kissed and nibbled at my neck while I squirmed in pleasure against him. I dropped my hands down his back not stopping until I was inside his waistband and cupping his cheeks in my hands. Raising my leg over his hip I pulled him against me, until I could feel the firm outline of him. He stilled and exhaled against my ear in pleasure. Moving my hips and rubbing against him I moved my hands to his chest, pushing him on his back and straddling him.

We were wearing far too many clothes. Staring down into his face from above I took his hands and moved them to the fabric at my waist that marked the bottom of my vest. Closing his hands around the fabric I moved them up with mine until he grasped what I wanted him to do. Slowly, little by little, he lifted my top up over my stomach and breasts, scanning the newly exposed skin as he went, until he pulled it over my head dropping it to the floor. His hands moved in circles over my stomach, rising to graze the underside of my breasts. Then finally both hands cupped me and began running lightly over my sensitive skin, I threw my head back gently as my nipples hardened further as his thumbs brushed them repeatedly. Then raising himself up, he rained kisses over both breasts before taking first one nipple then the other into his mouth. I was on fire. 

Reaching down between my legs I grazed my hand over the fabric covering what I desperately wanted and felt his cock jump in response. The fabric was wet with precum. I pulled myself out of his grasp and slid down his body. Propping himself up on his elbows he watched me as I grasped his waistband and pulled, he lifted himself so I could free him, and I ran them down past his knees before moving back up his body. I felt him kicking them the rest of the way off his legs as I closed my hand around his shaft. His cock was bigger than I had imagined and was rock hard, precum was smeared over its head . I leant back over him my hair falling into his face as I bent to kiss him, my hand still firmly moving around his cock. I felt his hands at my waist pushing my shorts off and I wiggled them further down my legs and kicked them off. His hands lifted from where they had been caressing my arse to fall across my stomach. Then he slowly moved them down over my mound and along my pussy lips, and then he delved between them. He pulled back from our kiss and looked me in the eyes when he realised how wet I was. He moved his fingers up, still staring into my eyes, and brushed them across my clit. I arched my back as pleasure coursed through me. 

I moved back positioning myself over him and looked at him as I slowly filled myself with his length. He felt so huge inside me, slowly we built our rhythm. Then I felt myself being flipped over on to my back and he was on top of me. He pushed slowly all the way in filling me completely, causing me to cry out in pleasure, then he was still. He pushed the hair out of my face and rained kisses down over it, slowly he moved down to my neck. When he got there he started to move again slowly building up speed. I could feel myself building as I looked up at him. “Don’t stop” I pleaded my breath coming in jagged gasps. He started pounding into me fast and hard, the sinews in his neck standing out and suddenly I was there falling over the edge. Yelling “Sherlock!” before blissful pleasure coursed through my body head to toe. I reopened my eyes as he grunted softly and I witnessed the startled look on his face as he came burying himself as deep as possible, jerking inside me and filling me, before he fell to my chest completely spent. I fell asleep with his head on my breast and his arm across my hip.


	5. Chapter 5

When I awoke the next day I was alone again but I could hear voices in the flat. Sitting up in bed and glancing around the room which was dimly lit in early morning light I saw that my vest and shorts were neatly folded on the chair in the corner of the room. When I went to put them on I found at the bottom of the pile a silk dressing gown in maroon which I recognised as one of Sherlock’s own. The long length of the dressing gown helped me to feel less naked than I had in just the shorts last night as I left the bedroom, but I was unsure if the scent of Sherlock which enveloped me was comforting or unsettling following last night.

 

When I entered the kitchen I found a cup of tea sitting in the middle of the table. I was about to walk past it when Sherlock’s voice piped up from the living room. “Rose if you are going to join us, I advise you bring the cup of tea John left for you in the kitchen with you.” I back stepped grabbed the tea up gratefully taking a warming sip as I entered the living room. Sherlock was sat at his desk, head buried in his laptop as he furiously tapped away the keyboard. On one end of the sofa sat John in a cable knit cream jumper, cup of tea in hand. On the other end sat a tanned man with salt and pepper hair. He got up as I stepped into the room. His eyes widened slightly, I think at the dressing gown but I couldn’t be sure, before he gave a small shake of his head, as if to clear his brain before introducing himself.

“Miss Philips? I’m Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade. So sorry about your flat. Forensics are working on it at the moment, and the fire investigator declared it structurally sound earlier this morning. All going well you should be able to get in by the end of the day.” I nodded wordlessly before turning to sit in the red fabric armchair behind me. I had so many questions buzzing through my head it was overwhelming. I didn’t know where to start. It was then that Sherlock decided to talk again.

“Yes thank you Lestrade for overwhelming her when she has just awoken in a strange flat, with two men she barely knows and one complete stranger after she comes back from Spain to find her flat burning. And you all seem to think that I’m the one with no social graces.”

To which I’m sure John muttered something along the line of ‘You don’t, you twat’ into his tea mug. Sherlock gave him a glare of derision before finally turned in my direction but spoke with his focus being on the shelving above and behind me. “In answer to your as yet unvoiced questions: The police are yet to find concreate evidence as to the motivation behind the attack. As such I have much to my disgust had to arrange to see my brother.” I looked at the unmasked disgust on his face, nonplussed as to how his brother was involved. As Sherlock was still not looking at my face it was John who responded to my confusion.

“Mycroft, Sherlock’s brother is…well he is practically the British government, which can come in rather handy when you need access to CCTV quickly to find a potential arsonist.”

“Yes Thank you John, although your description of my sibling does not fully describe the less useful, downright irksome attributes of my brothers but it will be sufficient in this instance. Rose it is highly likely that the attack was aimed at me and as so any damages that need to be paid for will be funded by myself, as part of that I have arranged to have a few outfits delivered this morning. When it is deemed safe for you to return to your flat it will not be habitable. The smoke damage will need to remedied. I have already booked a specialist company to come in and carry out a deep clean in three days’ time. They suggested that you would want to go in and sort out your personal possessions and box up any items that you want to keep regardless of the extent of damage and they will attempt to do what they can to preserve them. Although why you would want to keep anything fire damaged is beyond me.” He turned to John at this asking “Sentiment?” at John’s nod he gave an ‘ah’ of understanding before once again continuing.

“As for your last two questions you will stay here until your flat is habitable once more and Theo is currently to be found sleeping on one of the chairs at the kitchen table where he retired shortly after Mrs Hudson fed him some rather choice cuts of Lamb this morning.”

When I realised that all I had done for 30 seconds was nod slowly while processing I got up feeling the need to be alone for a bit. “Thank you all. Can I borrow your shower please Sherlock?” He nodded distractedly as he continued to type at his laptop that he had returned to on finishing his monologue.

 

The hot water pounding away at the muscles of my back went a long way towards relaxing me. I had woken this morning with the weight of the last 24 hours fully settled on my shoulders and the conversation in the flats cluttered living room had only piled more layers of worry on them.

I currently had no home.

I had no idea what was irreplaceably damaged.

I didn’t know who had set fire to my flat.

I didn’t know why somebody had set fire to my flat.

If they were targeting Sherlock, was I any safer here in his flat.

I had slept with Sherlock; Sherlock and I had fucked and I had no idea what that had done to our relationship.

 

Perversely the fucking Sherlock point from my list was the one causing me the most worry. I enjoyed spending time with Sherlock. I had grown to expect him to appear ranting about something he was stuck on, or the incompetence of the Met. I enjoyed finding him sleeping on my couch, then pretending that he was not asleep but in his mind palace. We had developed an ease around each other, it was comfortable and I had impression that Sherlock found it hard to be himself and relax around others. And I had fucked that up. How could I stay here knowing that I had made him so uncomfortable in his own home? Sherlock was never embarrassed or apologetic. He was always brash, in your face, acknowledging of the truth of a situation. That was not how he had been that morning. Sure if you hadn’t known what had happened last night you wouldn’t question his actions. He had been straight to the point, here is what’s happened, this is what we are going to do. But his lack of acknowledgement of last night convinced me that he was not alright. He hadn’t looked at me; he always looks at you, observing every sound, movement and micro expression you make and deducing its meaning and he hadn’t looked at me once.

 

When I got out the shower I realised that I had nothing clean to put on, so I crawled back into shorts, vest and Sherlock’s robe. I then pulled my laptop out of my bag turning it on and going to the kitchen to make tea while it loaded. I was surprised but glad to find the flat empty, so I bought my laptop to the red armchair instead and once the tea was ready sat myself there to begin my search.

 

The door abruptly opening announced Sherlock’s return and before I had time to turn to look at him a large package was thrown onto the sofa distracting me. Both I and Theo, who had moved from the kitchen chair to lay across the back of the armchair, watched it bounce a couple of times before coming to a stop in the middle of the sofa. Sherlock called out from the direction of the kitchen and his bedroom.

“The parcel must have arrived not long after we left this morning if you had gone and collected it you would not have needed that blanket.” I looked down at the tartan blanket that I had taken from the back of the chair to drape around me when I discovered that silk dressing gowns were designed for style not warmth.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear the door.” I called back. I was surprised to find Sherlock reply from close behind me.

“Ah yes, the doorbell is still in the bathroom cabinet.” I strained to look over my shoulder at him in confusion at that comment. “What? Its incessant ringing was distracting me last week when I was trying to ascertain the identity of the Bloomsbury bugler.” Suddenly his eyes narrowed, complete with a furrow of concentration between his prominent eyebrows, as he swooped down over my shoulder. His concentration was completely on my open laptop. Within second it had been removed from my lap and been lifted over my head by Sherlock’s large hands and squirreled away into the kitchen as he studied my open tabs and history.

 

“Sherlock” I exclaimed leaping from my chair, blanket cast to the chair forgotten. He stopped his scanning as I arrived behind where he stood at the kitchen worktop. He swung around to face me then and for the first time that day he looked directly at me.

“Why are you looking at cheap hotels and catteries?”

“Looking for somewhere for Theo and I to stay until I can get back to my flat.”

“Did you miss the part where I made my flat available to you until you could return to your own. I believed it was taken care of. It makes the most logical sense. Both you and your feline companion will be able to remain together, your commute to work will not be affected, you will be close by so as to be able to oversee the work that is undertaken if you so wish and we will still be able to spend time together.”

The words rushed out of my mouth before I could stop myself. “You still want to spend time with me?” I was very conscious of him taking a step closer to me.

“Yes, why would I not?” he asked warily. “I enjoy telling you about my cases as you seem to enjoy hearing about them. I find it very useful talking to you when I am working, your efforts help me to sort and prioritise my thoughts. I was under the impression that you also enjoyed these aspects of our…” he paused before continuing hesitantly as if unsure that he was using the right word “’friend..ship’ as well as feeling a need, although an unwarranted one, to ensure that I cave to my transport and sleep and do other boring things like eat and breathe.” He ended this with a humph to demonstrate just how tedious he found these essential, do or die, functions, and it was this that had me laughing. He rolled his eyes at my reaction although I caught the curl of amusement that graced his lip for a second before he had himself back under control.

“Of course I enjoy our friendship.” I said laughter still tinging my words but I was utterly serious as I looked up at him, staring straight into his eyes and continued “but I didn’t want to do anymore damage to our friendship than I fear I already have.” He looked momentarily surprised at my words and there was a moment of silence before he smoothly moved. I found myself with my back to the worktop, his arms bracketing me as he placed his hands flat on the worktop either side of me. Not once during this time had we broken eye contact and this continued as he spoke once more.

“Personally I believe our friendship is stronger than ever.” The honesty and hint of something more in his eyes astounded me leaving me unsure what to say. A light cough interrupted the moment and the smooth chiding tone of voice saying “Oh dear I do hope I am not interrupting anything Brother Mine!” left no doubt as to who the intruder was.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter
> 
> I found myself with my back to the worktop, his arms bracketing me as he placed his hands flat on the worktop either side of me. Not once during this time had we broken eye contact and this continued as he spoke once more.  
> “Personally I believe our friendship is stronger than ever.” The honesty and hint of something more in his eyes astounded me leaving me unsure what to say.  
> A light cough interrupted the moment and the smooth chiding tone of voice saying “I do hope I am not interrupting anything Brother Dear!” left no doubt as to who the intruder was.

The brothers glared at one another for a few seconds, both deducing the other before I cut in with the offer of tea. Mycroft broke first giving an affected smile as he gave a slight nod and a thank you. Sherlock went from stock still to sudden movement in a split second moving with long strides to the living room calling out “Take a seat if you must” to Mycroft. Sherlock had folded his gangly limbs up in his own chair so Mycroft advanced on the red armchair. He was stopped short on getting there by the presence of the ball of tabby fur that was curled up on top of the tartan blanket in the middle of the seat.  
“Ah perhaps not” He said pointedly as he moved away to sit at the desk, pulling his laptop out of his briefcase and turning it on.

Sherlock glanced up at his brother from the corner of his eye a twist of his lip expressing his amusement at the British government being displaced by a cat.  
“Scared of a cat Mycroft?” Sherlock spoke spitefully.  
“No Sherlock, I do however have a meeting with the cabinet after I have finished here and attending covered in cat fur would not do. Does Mummy know that her somewhat expensive gift is being used as a glorified cat blanket now?”  
“You and I both know that the blanket has been through worse than having a feline recline upon it.” Sherlock replied looking pensive.  
Mycroft’s response to this of “Ah yes indeed” was accompanied by a puzzled expression across his face. Both brothers carefully cultured blank expressions returned when they realised I had entered the room with the tea. Having given each a cup and retrieved my own from the kitchen I lifted the blanket cocooned Theo and sat in the chair before returning him to my lap.

“Now Mycroft, it’s a pleasure to meet Sherlock’s brother, and as much as I would love to sit here and listen to countless stories of the horror I imagine Sherlock was as a child. I believe Sherlock asked for your help finding the man that torched my flat.”  
“Yes Miss Phillips, straight to business then.” He typed away at his laptop a few times then turned it to face us. A stilled CCTV image of the street outside was on the screen. The image started to move as he pressed play. The image was not stop start frames and grainy as I had expected but was clear hi resolution although still in black and white. The street was clear for a few seconds then a figure came into shot. They came to a stop in front of 223 and stood at the doorstep. A couple walking on the other side of the street came into view and the man on the doorstep appeared to be knocking on the door. Once the couple were out of frame he stayed just standing on the doorstep for a short while, then when I assumed they had either entered the tube station or gone down Melcombe Street, he got something small out of his pocket and crouched down at the door for a short while before straightening up and entering the house. Mycroft fast forwarded through the footage. When it restarted the same figure was exiting the building, leaving the street the same way he had entered it. Mycroft again forwarded the footage stopping when the first wisps of smoke started issuing from the building and letting it continue to play.

Nobody had spoken while we watched the footage and Mycroft was the first of us to speak. “As you have just seen the arsonist picks the lock, very easily I must say” he added with a raised eyebrow “then proceeds we assume to enter two hundred and twenty three b and set in progress a fire, the means of which will be provided by the fire investigators in due course, then exits the building. He is inside the building for 3 minutes and 48 seconds. The time from his exit to the first signs of the fire is 34 minutes 21 seconds.”  
“That proves that the purpose of the attack was simple arson. To set up the timing device and ensure there was ample accelerant to get the fire burning. There is not a sufficient amount of time to do anything other than that.” Sherlock commented no longer watching the footage but sitting eyes closed and fingers steepled with both forefingers resting lightly against his full lower lip. My attention was bought back to the screen in time to see Sherlock racing up the road before barrelling in through the door. Sherlock was quietly contemplating the situation as I and Mycroft sat watching the surrounding crowd of onlookers waiting to see Sherlock leave the building. Even though I knew he was safe, I still irrationally could feel my pulse race as I waited to see him safely exit the burning building. The breath I took when his swirling coat wearing figure reappeared holding a non-resisting Theo to his chest alerted me to how unsteady my breathing had also become. 

Sherlock swiftly leaping from his chair and slamming the laptop shut braking the spell and Mycroft and I shared a brief look of relief before Sherlock was spouting forth demands.  
“I will obviously need a copy of this and the images you have gathered of his entrance and exit from the scene until you lost him. At some point a better view must be seen of his face.”  
“Possibly, I have not reviewed the footage personally, however I cannot let you have access to government property at your demand. Imagine what the tax payers would say.”  
“I imagine something along the lines of ‘Thank god, somebody competent to finally solve the crime’ what with the atrocious levels of competence of both the MET and the governments sorry excuse for a secret service.”  
“Yes now you have finished giving yourself an ego boost, can we move on.” Mycroft said wryly one eyebrow raised and eyes wide mockingly. Sherlock loftily extending his neck and pointedly looking away nose in the air had me needing to do something else quickly before I laughed at the way Mycroft could bring him back to being the childish little brother with one comment. I quickly moved up toward the sofa avoiding looking at either of them, biting my lip and pulled the parcel Sherlock had dropped there earlier into my lap. 

By the time the brothers had negotiated, settling for all the CCTV they had of the arsonist for 3 favours investigating government matters from Sherlock, none of which could take him from the country and had to score at least a 4 on his grading system, I had removed all the items from the box and was sat in a pile of women’s clothing. The underwear I had swiftly put behind my back, although I had wondered what kind of reaction I would have got from the stiff upper lip Mycroft if I’d left it in view but decided my own embarrassment wouldn’t be worth it. 

Neither Sherlock or I got up to see Mycroft out but I did however acknowledge that he was leaving by thanking him for helping. Sherlock just sat pouting in his armchair. Mycroft said nothing but looked from me to Sherlock back and forth quickly a look of puzzlement which morphed to a bemused type of smile. Finally, he looked up “It is my pleasure Miss Phillips, I do hope this is all sorted soon for your sake. Sherlock” he finished biding him goodbye and turned swiftly already fully aware that he would not receive a response from his brother.


	7. Chapter 7

As Mycroft had left through the door Sherlock had pulled his legs up under him and taken up his thinking pose, fingers intertwined and resting at his chin. Knowing by now that he could be there a while, I collected all the clothes from around me placing them on the chair Mycroft had left and pulled a detective mystery from the bookshelves. I assumed it must have been left behind by John, considering that Sherlock would probably be able to solve it in the first paragraph.

I was pulled out of my reading when Sherlock pulled at my arm. Dropping the book in shock, he continued pulling me out of the chair and didn’t release my arm as me moved to the kitchen.   
“Why are you not dressed yet? Clothes are needed.” And with that he released my arm only to push me in the direction of the bedroom. In my shock I scurried in there closing the door behind me. It was only once I had removed Sherlock’s dressing gown that I realised all my new clothes were still on the chair. No sooner had I thought it than Sherlock strode through the door, depositing the pile on the as yet still unmade bed. There was a split second were his eyes fell from the bed to my bare legs before he strode form the room, saying   
“15 minutes” before he closed the door once more.

Ten minutes later I left the room, dressed in jeans and a well-tailored green checked shirt. I was barely out of the bedroom door before Sherlock rounded the corner from the fridge and had once more grabbed my arm, this time pulling me out the kitchen door to the hall. Before I knew it I was shod, had on a light grey mac, that I hadn’t remembered taking out the package of clothes, and was firmly ensconced in a black cab next to Sherlock.  
“Ok whirlwind, what are we doing?”  
“We are in a Taxi, obviously!” he retorted still gazing through the window, not even sparing me a glance.  
“Yes even the simple people can see that, I meant where are we going, as well you know.” That earned me a seconds’ worth of a glance out of the corner of his eye.  
“I have to talk to my network.”  
“And I am here because?”  
“I cannot leave you un guarded.”  
“Oh”  
“Besides I know you’re dying to see what I do first hand. “He did turn to me then with a grin before once more turning to look out the window.

What I discovered that day was that a lot of what Sherlock does is really boring and hurts your feet. Also it made me feel stupid. Having spent some time trawling forgotten pockets of central London, listening to whispered exchanges between homeless people and Sherlock that made little sense to me, I was tiring and beginning to feel the effects of a lack of breakfast. It was with some relief then, that I found myself being shepherded into a coffee shop. Sherlock told me to grab a table while he went to order.  
“Hang on” I began opening my bag in search of my purse. “Can you get..”   
He interrupted waving distractingly in the direction of my open bag. “No, I’ll get these, a vanilla latte and toasted breakfast sandwich for you.” And he walked away without even confirming that’s what I wanted, because of course, he was right. 

The shop was busy so I grabbed the only free table, not too far from the till, I therefore was witness to the flirting between the barista and Sherlock. And believe me it was not subtle! The business of the coffee shop stopped me from being able to hear more than a few words of their exchange but I could read the body language between them. I had never seen Sherlock grinning so wolfishly before, and it only widened as the pretty blond barista pushed a lock of hair behind her ear as she smiled demurely up at him through her eyelashes. I was torn between rolling my eyes at the cliché-ness of it and tearing her hair out for flirting with the man I was obviously here with. Sherlock gathered up the drinks and finally came over to the table. The smile dropped of his face as he sat at the table.  
“Tedious, but necessary.” He muttered as he noticed my wide eyed stare at him, before taking a sip of the black coffee he had in front of him.  
“Right” I responded the raising of my eyebrows signalling my disbelief. He just huffed in response. I continued “So have we learnt anything this morning?”  
“Possibly, the CCTV will sort the useful information from the useless.”  
“But we have seen the CCTV.”  
“There is more CCTV in London alone than in the rest of the country combined and my big brother has access to it all. I need to see footage from many locations over the past fortnight to back up what I have found out today.”  
“Which is?”  
“People are asking after me, people that appear to be taking note of my actions.” He stated voice cold as steel. It was at that moment that the barista came over with my toasted sandwich, she barely glanced at me as she placed it down in front of me. You didn’t need Sherlock’s observation skills to notice the serviette with her number scribbled on it placed face down in front of Sherlock. The wink Sherlock gave her as she left the table turned my stomach.

After having spent another couple of hours in another area of town following Sherlock around like a lost puppy, I had pretty much had enough. He hadn’t actually spoken to me directly since we left the coffee shop. I just wanted to go home. I was relieved therefore when the cab pulled onto Baker Street. 

When we had got back to Sherlock’s flat. He swiftly entered the bathroom and the water started running. When it went quiet and Sherlock didn’t re-appear I assumed he had drawn himself a bath. That left me alone in a flat that was not my own, with no idea what to do, what was going on and how things had changed so swiftly between Sherlock and I since that morning. How was ‘our friendship closer than ever’ when we were now not speaking to each other? Was I just a leg over for him. Oh god, had I fallen for Sherlock’s flirting like that sad sap of a barista. Tea was needed. Water was boiling and the tea bag was in a clean mug when I realised there was no milk in the fridge; plenty of unidentified Tupperware containers that I didn’t want to open, having listened to copious tales of Sherlock’s experiments, but no milk. 

I slipped out the door and popped down to Mrs Hudson’s to borrow some milk. I’d just exited her flat with a jug of milk when a hand grabbed the elbow of the arm I was holding the jug in, as another hand removed the jug from me putting it down on the hall table, and I was guided out the front door.


	8. Chapter 8

He pulled the front door closed behind him, neatening the door knocker as he did so. He gave it a calculating look before making another slight adjustment, so that it sat exactly straight. Walking away from the door, he once more gently took my arm and guided me to the sleek black car that was idling at the curb. As the door was opened by the driver, Mycroft let go of my arm and moved to let himself in the other side. His door had only just shut when the car pulled away from the curb.

“Seatbelt my dear” he prompted as he fastened his own.

 

I had been silent so far, in what I now recognised to be my Mycroft kidnap. Only bestowed upon those considered close enough to little brother to be worth acknowledging. According to Sherlock and John I should be preparing myself for being asked to spy for money. Didn’t I feel special. I fastened my seatbelt before challenging Mycroft.

“How much?” Mycroft’s expression changed little but he slowly raised one eyebrow. I continued.

“Yes Mr Holmes, how much are you about to offer me to spy on Sherlock for you?” I paused for a second before continuing. “Only Sherlock would be very disappointed in me if I didn’t negotiate a price that when split between us wouldn’t at least help keep him in designer socks and cigarettes.”

“Ah, he has regaled you with the story of John and I’s first encounter then.”

“Actually John did but pot _a_ to, pot’ _ar_ ’to.” I replied with a shrug of my left shoulder.

“Contrary to what you have been led to believe I don’t actively spy on my brother, nor do I employ agents to do it for me.”

“What is this then?” I asked waving my hand around the interior of the car.

“An exchange of information, in a comfortable environment.” He replied his face the picture of innocence as he retrieved yet another external hard drive from his inner jacket pocket and handed it to me.

“And Baker Street is not a comfortable environment?”

“There is a terrible draft in that hallway.” he replied with a twist to his lip. I couldn’t suppress a slight laugh at that.

 

“So what do you want to know in this information exchange?”

“Whilst I do not spy on my brother I do have a vested interest in him and as such I like to check in on him every once in a while. As I am sure you have ascertained from the scene you witnessed earlier, Sherlock and I have what one might term a difficult relationship. He hides everything about himself from me. He’s got surprisingly good at it.” He finished blinking and softly shaking his head from side to side.

“That being said I know my brother. We are more similar than Sherlock would like to believe. Both of us try to live our life without sentiment, but do not make the mistake of believing him incapable of it. He is just a man, as human as all the rest. The presence of that blanket still in his life is testament to that.”

“The blanket?”

“Mm yes. How much do you know of Sherlock's life before you moved in next door?”

“Mrs Hudson has a scrapbook of press cuttings she lent me so I know some.”

“And what of his life before he became a consulting detective?” Was he making reference to what I thought he was?

“Well I know he had some…well, that for a while he was pretty dependant…..” I wasn’t sure how to finish the sentence.

Mycroft filled the void. “He has never, since the moment that he stepped out of rehab the last time, made a single reference to his past history pertaining to his use, and ultimate dependence, on illicit drugs. Although I am sure he would argue that he was never dependant. Believe me, as an eyewitness to those events, a dependence was what he had. Each time Sherlock was forced into rehab my mother gifted him with a blanket, each time he failed the blanket would go with him to whatever filthy dosshouse he procured his next hit from and would never return. That blanket symbolises his sobriety, and yet he casually lets it become a cat bed. He is a different man in the presence of you and your feline companion, do not let him push you away when he realises it.”

I was floored by his implications, was Mycroft the British Government himself giving me his…approval? It was only when my door was opened that I realised that we had arrived back at Baker street. As I went to get out a soft cough drew my attention back to Mycroft. He picked the forgotten hard drive up from the seat where I had abandoned it earlier. Placing it in her hand he concluded the conversation

“Tell Sherlock that there will be no additional payment needed for this information, our charming conversation has been more than sufficient.” And with that the driver closed the door and the car had pulled away before I had even got the key in the lock.

 

Standing in the quiet hall I realised two things. One, the jug of milk had gone. Two, Mycroft hadn’t actually asked me anything. The only information explicitly exchanged was from him to me.

 

I took my first step on the stairs, only to look up and see Sherlock standing quietly at the top of them. I smiled at him, to be met with nothing, his face closed and controlled. I continued to walk up the stairs looking at him the whole way up. Not a flicker of change on his face until both my feet were on the rug of the landing.

“What did Mycroft want?” he hissed, extra venom intoned on his brother’s name.

“How did you know I was with Mycroft?”

“The bloody knocker, straight down to the last millimetre. Maybe I should have him locked up, and get his OCD dealt with.” I froze at his comment, surely meant as a role reversal from Mycroft involvement in his rehab. Of course Sherlock noticed.

“Oh so that was what the purpose of his little tete de tete. To tell you all the gory little details of my previous drug habit. Shall I answer all the questions you still have buzzing around the empty space where your brain apparently resides. My preference was a 7% cocaine solution, injected. Ah you’ll be wanting to look for track marks of course.”

He continued while removing his shirt, the jerkiness of his movements betraying just how upset he was. “Then you can scurry off to look for hotels and catteries, do make yourself a cup of tea before you leave though. I’m afraid the junkie carried the milk up the stairs, but I only touched the handle so if you wear gloves you should be ok” he spat out.

 

I rounded on him the hard drive clenched tight in my fist. “STOP! Stop this. This was what he met me about.” I said pushing it into his chest. “The CCTV you requested. Yes, the subject of your past habit arose. We did not discuss the sordid details, we talked about the bloody cat blanket.” I stalked away a few paces before turning. If your past history bothered me Sherlock I would have reacted to it months ago, when I was first made aware of danger nights. If it really bothered me I would not have given you free access to my flat, would not have become your friend, would never have taken you up on your kind offer of staying here and most definitely would not have slept with you. But I did all those things because everyone deserves the right to strive for their future, live in their present, and learn from their past.” With that I slammed the living room door behind me, threw myself on the sofa and wrapped myself in the bloody blanket.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have rather neglected this recently, but got a message the other day from maybolh saying she hoped I would finish this fic. So just a short chapter to keep the story going (not my best chapter, sorry!) I have every intention of finishing this though.

I woke to find myself warm and cosy in Sherlock’s bed, but with absolutely no memory of how I got there. An added heat by my feet let me know without looking that Theo was there. The tightness of my eyes was evidence enough of the tears I had shed before falling asleep on the sofa.

The stupid argument with Sherlock had pushed me over the edge. Once I started crying I couldn’t stop. The hysterics didn’t really have much to do with the argument though, it was more the straw that broke the camel’s back. Everything that had happened over the past few days finally catching up with me and I had consequently found myself sobbing on Sherlock’s sofa, hoarse voice, swollen eyes, snotty nose, the lot. At some point I became aware of Sherlock being there in the doorway of the kitchen and living room, then hearing him shut the door to his bedroom and leaving me be without a word.

I can’t remember the last time I cried like that. My last memory before waking was of being curled up on myself on the sofa, breathes shuddering, exhausted but feeling cathartic, as a good cry makes you. It still begged the question of how I got here. The only logical conclusion being that Sherlock had moved me. But why would he have? He had been so angry yesterday and I had been warned by many that he didn’t suffer fools and would not be moved by sentiment and the emotions of others.

Making the decision that lying in bed was not going to answer these questions or get me anywhere closer to getting back in my flat I forced myself out of my unexpected sanctuary, earning myself a glare from Theo for disturbing him, before he leisurely stretched his limbs before leaping gracefully from the bed. 

A quick change out of yesterday’s cloths and a shower to wash the remnants of yesterday’s tears from my face left me at least looking better. I threw on some of the most comfortable of my new clothes and entered the rest of the flat to find it deserted. The only change to it since yesterday being the large empty box in the middle of the kitchen table.

Discovering the jug of milk, that between us had made its way to the flat from Mrs Hudsons yesterday, had been sat out on the kitchen table all night, I poured it down the sink and, grabbing my purse, made the way out the flat to the Tesco express by the tube. I knew this was not going to be a day I would be able to get through without multiple cups of builder’s tea.

Making my way around the small supermarket I was distracted from making a choice about biscuits when I began to expect I was being followed. There was a man in the same aisle as me looking at crisps. He wouldn’t really have been on my radar, just another commuter, if it hadn’t been for the fact that I had seen him outside the flat yesterday when I was being manhandled into Mycroft's car late last night. Why would a man be on baker street late in the evening and mid-morning? Moving around the store I noticed that he kept popping up in the same aisles. I made a quick dash back to the fruit and veg at the front of the store and sure enough he was there again within 30 seconds.

I looked up to find the security cameras, pointed straight in my direction and typed out a message to Sherlock.  
-Think I’m being followed.  
Within seconds he replied.  
-Where are you? SH  
-Tesco Baker Street. What should I do?  
-Stay. Find CCTV camera and get in sight of it. SH  
-Already have.  
I was staring down at the phone waiting for a response when I felt someone take hold of my arm. Looking up I found my stalker standing in front of me.  
“Miss Phillips, I am part of your protection detail. Come with me please and I will escort you back to your home.”  
“How do I know you are who you say you are? I am not leaving the store unless I am accompanied by Sherlock or Mycroft Holmes themselves.”  
“Very well Miss.” He said taking a step away to hover over by the courgette and aubergines. Taking his phone out and placing a call.   
I returned to my own phone that had been clenched in my hand the entire time.  
-Says he’s part of my protection?!?! Not leaving this store unless you or Mycroft personally escort me.  
Two text came though similtaniously.  
Unknown number -Your extraction as per your instructions is being arranged as we speak. M. Holmes.  
-Fine. SH

10 minutes later Sherlock came striding through the automatic doors. Mycroft followed behind at a more sedate pace before coming to a rest beside his brother, leaning slightly on his umbrella. Sherlock barely glanced at me before turning an icy glare on his brother.   
“Are ALL your staff inept? She shouldn’t have been able to identify a member of the secret service tailing her for Christ’s sake.” He hissed.  
“One can only assume that she is more observant than the average goldfish brother mine.” Mycroft drawled looking at his nails affecting an air of nonchalance. I didn’t miss the icy glance he shot at the apparent agent while Sherlock was distracted doing a good impression of a two year old’s tantrum though.

“I shall leave you to accompany Miss Phillips back to your flat brother.”  
“No busy Mycroft. I believe she stated she would leave with either of us, you do it.”  
They spoke as if I wasn’t even there.  
“I expect an explanation is required for the presence of a protection detail. As you requested it, unbeknownst to your current short term flatmate, it stands to reason that it falls to you to explain the reason for it. Goodbye Sherlock.”  
Mycroft finally deigned to speak to me then.  
“Miss Phillips I will have identification of agents sent to you prior to shifts from now on, apologies for any inconvenience.”


End file.
